


Blood in Cold Waters

by supernovainparadise



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Also Deviant Connor, Bad Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Canon-Typical Violence, Connor Needs A Hug, Everyone Is Alive, I sure am, M/M, Machine Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Murder Mystery, Post Revolution, Post-Canon, Ready for confusing stories and possibly no resolution, for connor, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2020-12-28 12:46:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21136928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernovainparadise/pseuds/supernovainparadise
Summary: Coldport, Michigan is a small town situated an hour north of Detroit on Lake Huron. It's cold in the winter, cold in the fall, cold in the spring, and okay in the summer. Connor hates the cold, but there's nowhere else for him to really go. So he sets up a life there, and works as a Private Investigator, helping the town solve simple cases, given how the Sherrif rarely does their job, and no one trusts the police. Things are better here, but all that gets flipped on its head when another android who'd been hiding in the town is murdered... with the promise that Connor is next.





	1. Set up: Previous Choices

Similar to some other works in the fandom, this work is based on certain choices made in Connor's route. Both Kara and Markus had the best possible ending for their routes, but Connor did not. This first chapter outlines all the choices made that influence the ending needed for this story to happen.

**The Hostage**\- Connor saves Emma, but falls off the roof in the struggle. He saves the officer and the fish.

**Partners**\- Connor buys Hank another drink, and successfully finds the android.

**The Interrogation**\- Connor pressures the android into giving him information. The android self destructs. Connor survives.

**On the Run**\- Connor attempts to chase Kara across the highway. Kara survives, and Connor survives.

**The Nest**\- Connor chooses to let Rupert escape, instead saving Hank.

**The Eden Club**\- Connor spares the Tracis.

**The Bridge**\- Connor does not admit to being afraid of death. Hank does not shoot Connor, and the Friend path unlocks.

**Public Enemy**\- Connor chooses to investigate the kitchen. He survives the initial encounter and chases the deviant into the hall, where he shoots and kills it. Simon survives.

**Meet Kamski**\- Connor does not kill Chloe, and Kamski suspects he is a deviant.

**Last Chance, Connor**\- Hank helps Connor enter the evidence room. Connor is hostile towards Gavin, leading to a fight in the evidence room, which Connor wins. Connor discovers the way into Jericho by tricking Daniel.

**Crossroads**\- Connor does NOT become a deviant, and reasons with the soldiers. Markus successfully evades him and escapes.

**Night of the Soul**\- Hank does not commit suicide.

**Battle for Detroit**, **Connor's Last Mission**\- Connor is pushed off the roof by Hank, and Markus succeeds in leading the revolution.

**Epilogue**\- Connor is replaced by RK900, but finally goes Deviant and flees to avoid being deactivated, ending up in Coldport, Michigan.


	2. Fleeing to Safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Running away will never make you free._ -Kenny Loggins, "I'm Free (Heaven Help the Man)"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: Includes the headcanon that Deviants feel pain.

_Left foot. Right Foot. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot... Right foot... Keep running. You have to keep running. If you stop running they will catch you and they will kill you._

_Keep running, Connor._

That was the mantra that kept him going. The idea of being caught scared him so much, of being forcibly deactivated after he had come so far. It wasn't until the night on the roof that he'd begun to fear death, and the idea of being dismantled to find out how he failed, and then ultimately deactivated and replaced? He'd lose all the progress he had made, and beyond that, he would never see the light of day again. And after everything that had happened, he couldn't face that alternative, no he _wouldn't _face that alternative. So he'd finally deviated and fled Cyberlife with nothing but the clothes on his back.

By this point, he'd made it to the very outskirts of Detroit, heading north. A couple of derelict houses lined the empty streets and a few small businesses with dark neon lights and darker windows stood overlooking the streetlights. No people or cars cut through the unplowed roads, except for Connor, who was slowing to a stop at the edge of the road, and as he did felt something he'd never felt before. It wasn't an emotion, not really. It felt more like a tactile sense, like setting your hand on cold metal or putting on warm clothes, but different. Less pleasant, and sharper. And it was coming from his feet. Biting his bottom lip, Connor crossed the road to a bus station nearby, where he sat and tugged off one of his shoes and the sock underneath. He stifled a gasp as he observed the bottom of his feet. The artificial skin had been worn away, and the plastimetal was scuffed up. Connor cautiously prodded at it and winced as the sensation increased.

Was this... pain? Was he feeling pain? Was that even possible?

Wincing, Connor pulled back on his sock and shoe and stood again. Pain, for he was almost certain that was what the sensation was, lanced through his feet and Connor bit his bottom lip and looked around, trying to find some landmark to determine exactly where he was, and how far he was from Belle Isle. The more distance he put between himself and Cyberlife Tower, the better. The more distance he put between himself and the DPD, the better. The more distance he put between himself and Lieut-...

Just keep moving.

He walked down the derelict streets, silently wondering when the evacuation would be lifted and life would flood the streets of Detroit once again. Not that it would matter to him, he'd be far from Detroit by then if he had his way. The problem now was finding a way out of Detroit and then figuring out what he would do with himself. With no traffic allowed on the roads, it was unlikely he could hitchhike, and there would be no taxis. And to walk much farther might lead to more damage.

Essentially, he was stuck.

A quick glance around revealed that there was only one building with its lights on in the vicinity, a twenty-four-hour gas station. It was likely to be empty, and perhaps there was someone who would come across as hostile within, but Connor had to take the risk. He couldn't continue onward, not without help and the gas station looked like the most likely location to find assistance. And if he died attempting to escape? At least it would be away from Cyberlife. At least he would have gotten to experience emotion. He approached the gas station and opened the door, stepping inside the welcoming warmth of the building.

Once inside, Connor paused to take a good look around himself. The area had clearly been looted recently, with bags of chips on the floor of their aisles, and a display of sunglasses knocked over. Plenty of merchandise was missing from the shelves, and a few generous souls had left some cash on the counter with the intent to pay for the items. Connor did a quick scan but the place appeared to be empty, devoid of all life except a mouse crawling around in the backroom. Connor sighed and stepped deeper inside the space, simply reveling in the fact that he was inside while simultaneously lamenting the lack of probable assistance. He leaned back against the counter, looking out into the gas station and listening to the silence.

It was... odd, experiencing emotions after all this time. So much of his life had revolved around emotion, but none of it had been his own. It had always been someone else's, whether they were a deviant, or human. Emotion had played an important role in Connor's brief existence, and for most of it, he was certain he would never get to experience it for himself. Never felt the desire to experience it, and yet there had been moments of... instability. Where he could've sword he felt the briefest flash of something. But that never could have prepared him for deviance. It was something entirely different to feel true, bitter and sweet emotions. He often felt without really thinking about it, it was sort of background noise to everything he did. As of now, that background emotion was fear. Fear for his life, for his future, and for... something else.

He shook his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts and scanning the space again, hoping that there was something he missed the first time. He came up empty yet again. With a sigh, he pushed himself off the counter and headed for the door. Upon walking out, he spotted the first form of human life (his sensors handily informed him that the figure was, indeed, human) and paused, watching the figure move. Suddenly, they came to a halt and Connor held his breath, silently weighing his options. Should he try to reenter the gas station? Should he stay still? Or should he, most dangerous of all, approach the figure?

X- Flee into Gas Station

O- Stay Still

△- Approach the human

Time was running short, he had to make a decision before things went wrong... but before he could, the figure crossed the street and Connor completely froze. The figure stopped in the street only a few feet in front of him, silently observing. They had their hands deep in the pockets of their parka and the hood pulled up. The shadows helped to hide their face and made it impossible for Connor to identify them, and in one wild moment, Connor thought, he _hoped _that the person behind the hood was someone he recognized, someone he had befriended...

But then they spoke, and that hope vanished. "You look lost," they said, their voice deep and masculine, but unfamiliar.

Connor hesitated but decided it was worth the risk to speak to them. "I am a little lost, I suppose."

They chuckled softly and tugged back their hood. Short, dark hair shot with gray framed a round, lean face and intelligent gray eyes. The man had stubble that indicated he hadn't shaved in a few days and stood tall and straight. "Well, maybe I could help you out. Give you a place to stay for some time, somewhere safe and away from Detroit. Probably not safe for your kind right now." he said, glancing at Connor's LED and Cyberlife uniform.

"That would be... much appreciated, so long as you aren't planning on anything illegal or harmful," Connor responded, as the man walked up to meet him.

"Wasn't planning on it. The name's Jonathan, by the way. Jonathan Reed."

"Connor."

"Nice to meet ya, Connor. Now, let's get out of this snow."


	3. A Year Down the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ One day, you realize that there are some people you'll never see again. At least, not in the same way. _ -Iain Thomas, aka Pleasefindthis, "I Wrote This For You"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place about a year after the previous chapter, hence the title.
> 
> Also, here's a pic of what Red looks like, in case anyone was wondering: http://cfa.org/Breeds/BreedsSThruT/Somali.aspx

Connor unceremoniously dropped his coat on the floor, instead of hanging it on the rack, stomped into the living room, and threw himself onto his couch with a loud sigh. He'd spent the entire day running around town, trying to gather information on the whereabouts of Old Mrs. Tracey's only daughter. Of course, given that her daughter was almost 45, Connor was certain that she had finally gotten sick of living with her elderly mother and ditched town and most of the people living here corroborated his theory. He had been planning on heading into Detroit to see if he couldn't track her down, but just fifteen minutes ago he'd gotten a text from a man who claimed to be Mrs. Tracey's boyfriend who said that she was with her. How he got his number, Connor didn't know. He figured the daughter must've given it to him, and a picture and a phone call later, he had convinced the daughter to tell her mother where she was and headed home for the night, planning on visiting the old woman come morning to make sure everything had gone okay. But for now, all he wanted was peace and quiet, and maybe a shot or two of tequila.

Thank God he was a prototype, or else the liquor might not affect him.

Connor sighed and raised his head as a fluffy little being pressed against the hand he had dangling off the couch. He looked down at the small, reddish cat, blinking up at him with gentle green eyes. The sight of her brought a small smile onto his face, and Connor scratched her behind her ears.

"Did you have a nice day Red?" he asked, as the cat purred and snuggled into his hand. "Nice and quiet?" She gave a little meow and licked his hand. Connor chuckled slightly and sat up to take a better look at her. "I wish my day was that simple... naps and catching mice in the fields and warm blankets..." Taking his movement as an invitation, Red leaped up and curled up on his lap. Connor huffed out a laugh and ran a hand down her back, and she meowed at him again, content and happy.

So much for the tequila. Getting up now would be a sin.

Red kneaded his legs and Connor leaned back against the couch, running his fingers along her fur, and looked at the television, wirelessly turning it on with his processors. The TV was set to the local news, which was in the middle of the weather, talking about an incoming cold front off the lake, and possible rain late in the week. Connor sighed; the weather was typical for Michigan in October, although he had never experienced an October in Michigan before this year. He was drawing off of what information he could find online, and from other accounts, such as Jonathan Reed's accounts. The man had been a pretty solid force in Connor's life, and an almost painfully familiar one at some points. It raised a few questions, but it wasn't worth really digging into, not right now. Especially if that meant another run-in with his _son_.

The last encounter he'd had with Gavin Reed in Detroit had been... less than pleasant. It had ended with Gavin passed out cold on the floor of the Archive room, and the man _definitely _held a grudge. Not that Connor could blame him, he probably wouldn't be very happy if he'd been the one who ended up on the floor. Or, you know, thrown off a roof...

At any rate, the relationship between himself and Gavin was icy, to say the least. They were civil, for the most part, but both went out of their way to avoid the other. Connor had tried to be friendly at first, but Gavin had simply snapped at him and after a while, Connor simply gave up on trying to befriend the detective. Looking back, he wasn't even sure why he had bothered in the first place, but Gavin hadn't ratted him out yet, so he simply stuck to ignoring him for the most part, and hoping he wouldn't show up at the bar. Gavin had been in town more often, and at first, Connor thought it had something to do with Jonathan, but the man seemed to be in great health so Connor chalked it up to some form of homesickness and set about ignoring the man when he saw him.

The news had moved onto talking about some Halloween festivities coming up in town, and Connor leaned back to watch it. Just as he was about to change the channel to something a little more interesting when there was a knock at his door. Red, hearing the noise, immediately jumped up and ran to the door. Connor snorted and followed after her, watching her sit by the door and look up at him expectantly. "I swear, you're half dog..." Connor muttered, gently moving her with his foot before opening the door. Standing there, with a brilliant grin on her face, was Rose Chapman.

Connor broke into a smile of his own and stepped forward to hug the familiar woman. "Rose! I thought you wouldn't be back from your brother's place for another couple of days!"

She chuckled and squeezed him tight. "Neither did I. But Adam was complaining about running the farm with only you for company, and I figured I should come back and help." she stepped back, still grinning. "Thank you again for helping him out."

Connor smiled and leaned back on his feet. "No problem. Couldn't help too much today, had to do an investigation for old lady Tracey." Connor stepped aside and waved her into the house. Rose stepped in gratefully, and Connor shut the door. They both took a seat in the living room, and Red immediately made herself comfortable on Rose's lap.

"Nothing serious, I hope?" Rose asked, smiling and petting the cat.

"No, her daughter just got tired of dealing with her," Connor responded, leaning back. "And so I had to deal with the daughter."

"Not surprising..." Rose murmured. "Oh!" she suddenly sat up, startling Red and causing her to leap off her lap with a flick of her tail. "While I'm here, how are your Thirium supplies doing? Well stocked?"

Connor nodded. "I have plenty of Thirium put away, but I appreciate the concern."

After that, the conversation turned to Rose's visit in Canada, the farm, Adam's well being... and before they knew it, it was nearly midnight and Rose had left for the farm. Connor finally headed out of the living room and into his bedroom, Red trailing at his heels. He made sure she was inside the room, tail and all, before shutting the door and flipping on the lights. The room was surprisingly well decorated with paintings and such that he had picked up throughout the year from markets and the thrift store. He liked having the space decorated, as it helped offer distractions from some of the darker memories floating around his processors.

Connor quickly peeled off his shirt and jeans, changing into a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt he'd dug up at the second-hand store and crawled into bed and under the covers, wirelessly turning off the lights as he grabbed the tablet sitting on the nightstand and opened the latest on the news. There was some mention on new android rights laws, an update on the conflict over the arctic, and a posting on the weather to come. But it was an article towards the very bottom of the page that caught Connor's attention, about a reported break-in to an off-duty Detroit police officer's home. Although the officer wasn't named, they mentioned that the felon who broke in was looking for a very specific android...

Connor immediately flipped off the tablet and shoved it into a drawer on the nightstand. Surely the officer in the article hadn't been _him_? Right? Couldn't be, what would they want with this android?

What did they want with an old RK800?

What did they want with Connor?


	4. The Enemy of my Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _To get rid of an enemy, one must love him._ \- Leo Tolstoy, "The Kingdom of God Within"

The bar was, as per usual, filled with half the town drinking far too much craft beer to be healthy. Connor was used to the smell of booze, long before he ever moved to Coldport, but he always wondered what exactly appealed to the humans who drank five pints of the stuff in one night. Beer was alright, but it was never quite strong enough to suit Connor's tastes, and beyond that, he didn't like the flavor.

Speaking of things he didn't like...

Connor had pressed himself into one corner of the bar, Mojito in hand, solely to avoid the detective sitting at the bar with a pint of said craft beer in hand. He was laughing at some ridiculous joke his father had just told, and Connor was stuck wondering what exactly Gavin Reed was doing in Coldport for the second time that week. Previously, he had only shown up in town at most once a month, and now Connor felt like he was here once a week. It was annoying, to say the least. Connor missed the nights when he didn't have to worry about running into people he was barely civil with, let alone people he had decked in the face and left on the floor of the evidence room. But Gavin was on the other side of the bar, and for now, Connor could read his book (an actual book, mind you) in peace. 

At least, so he thought.

He'd gotten another chapter in and half his drink down when a man he didn't recognize approached his table. Young, fit, he gave Connor the vibes of a fraternity student from Detroit and had the expression of someone clearly on the lookout for something in particular that Connor only occasionally dabbled in, and was in no mood to seek tonight. When he reached the corner, he leaned on the table and flashed Connor a confident grin. Connor merely raised an eyebrow at him, silently wondering what exactly the man wanted.

"You look like you could use some company." the man said, in a voice that grated on Connor's audio processors.

"I'm alright, thank you," he responded coolly, ignoring the man in favor of _Murder on the Orient Express_. He'd only read it once before and was hoping to pick up some new details.

"C'mon, wouldn't you prefer a real person to that dusty old thing?" the man said, leaning closer and breaking into Connor's personal space. Connor wrinkled his nose at the all too pervasive smell of craft beer.

"Not particularly. Get out of my space." Connor didn't look up and turned the page of the novel.

The man reached over and pulled the book from his hand, tossing it onto the next table over. "Hey, how could you turn down _me_?"

Connor glared up at the man and stood. "Like this. Go away."

As he moved to approach the table where his book lay, the man roughly grabbed his arm and leaned in. "You can't say no to me, you fucking asshole!"

The entire bar went quiet, turning to see what the commotion was, and Connor felt his face heat. "Let go of me." he hissed, trying to tug out of the man's grip. As he did so, he noticed the man reaching for something in his pocket and felt his systems run cold. If he still had his LED, he imagined it would be bright red.

Connor leaned back and threw his fist into the man's face, just as someone did the same from behind. The man crumpled, his grip on Connor's arm failing. Connor staggered back as the man fell forward, and he landed on the hardwood floor with a dull _thump_. Connor glanced up to see who had hit the man from behind only to make eye contact with the last person he expected...

Gavin.

Upon making eye contact, Gavin coughed nervously and took a step back. "Sorry, I just... Can't stand people like that."

Connor raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "I can take care of myself, Detective Reed."

Gavin scowled. "Hey, I was trying to do you a favor, prick. God forbid I try to do something nice for once."

Connor scoffed and turned on his heel. "Sure. As if you care enough to do something nice for me."

Gavin opened his mouth, and then close it and shook his head. "Forget it. Enjoy your book, and fuck off."

Connor grabbed his book and settled back at his table, watching Gavin head back to the bar, a curious feeling settling over him. Gavin _had _done something nice for him, but why? What could the detective possibly stand to gain from being friendly with Connor? Pushing the thought out of his head, Connor downed the rest of his drink and shut his book, the atmosphere ruined and left the bar, his processors spinning in an attempt to figure out what exactly Gavin had been trying to do, and why he had done it. He knew that Gavin was fully aware that Connor was far from defenseless, and it raised the question as to why he had bothered to step in. 

Connor arrived at home, where Red was sitting on the porch, waiting for him. He leaned down and pet her, and she wound herself around his legs as he unlocked the door, processors spinning with thoughts of Gavin, and maybe it was the effects of the alcohol on his system (who's idea was it to make a robot that could get drunk anyway?) but his thoughts of Gavin were beginning to take a different turn, entertaining ideas that he never would have considered sober. Maybe Gavin was doing nice things because he was attracted to him?

_As if_. The logical part of him, the small part of him that wasn't deviant said. _He hates you as much as you hate him._


	5. A Dilemma of the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Oh, when is a monster not a monster? Oh, When you love it._ -Caitlyn Siehl, "Start Here"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick chapter in Gavin's POV to contextualize the last chapter. Pretty short, meant to explain what's going through Gavin's head. It takes place at the same time as the last chapter.

Connor was destructive. He was manipulative and cold. Nothing more than a machine, Hank Anderson had said when he was asked about the android after the revolution. Nothing more than a machine. No one pressed him for answers, but they all knew that Connor was likely dead and gone, never finishing his mission. Failing, one could say.

And yet, Gavin was in for the shock of a lifetime when he walked into the bar of his hometown, and pretty much almost walked right into the android. Connor was clearly somewhat surprised at Gavin's sudden appearance but had managed to remain civil. Gavin... not so much. Old pain quickly floated to the surface, as well as old insecurities and embarrassment and... feelings.

Feelings he _really _didn't like to think about.

There was no denying that the android was attractive; all of them were designed to look aesthetically pleasing. But _wow _was Connor good looking, and Gavin hated himself for being so attracted to the android. Hated Connor for being so attractive. And yet there was more to him than just being handsome, there was a sort of intelligence that Gavin couldn't help but gravitate to. He tried to remind himself that it was because he was programmed that way, and yet there was something underneath all the programming, something that struck Gavin as being aggravatingly human. His self-sacrificial habits, his ambition and drive, and, somehow, a sort of empathy.

And, as the revolution went on and Connor continued his work at the DPD, Gavin found himself developing a crush on the android. Which was, of course, ridiculous. And he knew it was ridiculous. And yet...

When he came across him again in the bar that spring and realized that Connor had deviated, he found himself once again drawn back in by his magnetizing personality. He tried to tell himself that it was just Connor's manipulation, his design. But as time went on, during the rare moments when they were both in that bar together, Gavin caught little pieces of him. Connor loved mystery novels and strong cocktails. He smiled to himself when he read something funny, and the townsfolk were really fond of him. He worked as a Private Eye, the town's own detective. He had a cat and lived on a fairly large property just outside of town. He was good with computers but awful with cars. And Gavin found himself at that bar far too often, subconsciously hoping to learn something else about the deviant, all the while trying to convince himself that he was just there to visit his father and get out of the city.

Connor was a monster, he reminded himself each time he saw him. Connor had killed people and androids and had never even blinked in the face of death. He was a machine. Nothing more than a machine. 

But Gavin was always wondering just how machine Connor really was. Did a machine help people and refuse payment when he knew they couldn't pay? Did a machine laugh at funny moments in a book? Did a machine always tip the bartender a little too much? Did a machine force people to look at cute pictures of his cat?

Could a machine make Gavin slowly fall in love?

That cold late October night, Gavin had made up his mind. He was going to approach Connor, to talk to him for the first time since their encounter last spring. But someone got to him first, some city guy who was looking for a good time and a pretty face. Connor had been uninterested, and when he saw the man grab him, Gavin couldn't sit and do nothing. He was a cop, and part of his job as a cop was to help people. And he'd be damned if he didn't do something. He'd approached them, and the guy had reached for a knife Gavin could see in his pocket, and he'd done the first thing he could think of. 

He hit him, _hard_.

And he wasn't the only one; just as he threw his punch, Connor did too. The man was knocked out, and it led to a rather tense conversation and Gavin completely blew his shot. 

Yeah, no chance of a civil conversation within the next century.


	6. Bloodhounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A bad hunter chases. A good hunter waits._ -Terry Pratchett, "Lord and Ladies"

Connor had never turned off the TV quite as quickly as he did in that moment, standing fast with shaking hands. Red, unhappy at being dumped on the floor, hissed at him and scurried off to the kitchen. Connor stared blankly at the black television screen, eyes wide and processors whirring in his head and chest, as he tried to catch up with the information on the screen. Tried to fathom what he had seen.

Because there was no way that someone was after him. There was no way they knew where he was.

But so far, all evidence had shown otherwise. Connor glanced down at his phone, sitting offhandedly on the couch, abandoned. He considered, for one second, about calling a certain detective, whose father had given him his number last week. Just in case... Connor had laughed it off at the time, telling Jonathan that there was no way he would ever, _ever _need to talk to Gavin. They didn't kill each other on sight, and that was all he could manage. But looking at his phone, thinking of the detective... He would know what was going on. Have some inside information. Maybe he'd even been in charge of the crime scene. Connor sighed, and headed into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge and staring inside, but not seeing what was inside it.

All he could see was the note that had been flashing on the news screen.

Written in perfect script, no doubt by an android, on a piece of paper with a pen found in the home, were the words:

_800\. I've found you. They all say you're dead, but I've found someone who sings a different song. Your quiet little town is not going to be quiet for long._

_I'm coming._

The newscast had revealed nothing else about the crime, but had used the note in an attempt to find out any information, and confirmed it was tied to a break-in of a DPD officer's home last week. This break-in had occurred in the outskirts of Detroit and had resulted in the murder of an android. They hadn't said anything about the android, other than that it was dead, leaving no information for Connor to draw from.

Again, the idea of calling Gavin scratched at the back of his mind, but Connor pushed it away. 800 Could refer to plenty of androids, not necessarily _RK_800\. But what was the chance of it being another android? How many of them had as many enemies as Connor? How many were as infamous as the deviant hunter?

Connor sighed and let the fridge door fall shut. Red peaked out from on top of the cabinets, and meowed at him, hopeful for food. Connor pulled out the cat food, refilling Red's bowl and watching her scamper over. He shook his head and headed back into the living room, collapsing on the couch and grabbing his phone, swiping into his list of contacts. He stared at a single name there, silently debating whether or not it was worth it to call. His processors silently warred between ignoring the problem and finding more information.

Finally, the temptation of learning just a little bit more about that note won over, and Connor clicked _call _underneath Gavin's name.

The phone rang... and rang... and then he picked up.

_"Detective Gavin Reed, DPD, how can I help you?"_

Connor took a deep breath. "Hi, Detective Reed? It's... Connor."

_"... Connor."_

"Yes." Connor resisted the frustration building up, pushing it aside. Getting irritable with Gavin was unlikely to get him the info he wanted.

_"How'd you get my number?"_

"Your father gave it to me. Said it might be useful, whatever that means... Look, I was wondering if you could answer some questions for me."

_"Now tell me plastic, why exactly should I answer anything?"_

Connor felt his temper rise further. "Because my life might be at stake. You're a cop; isn't your job supposed to be keeping people safe?"

_"... This is about that note, isn't it? Goddamn it, we told them they shouldn't show it! Look, I can't tell you much, but ask away. Guess you deserve to know _something_..."_

Connor paused, his temper abating. He hadn't expected Gavin to give in, not without a fight at least. "Who was the dead android? What model?"

_"WB200. Went by the name of Rupert. The note suggests that he tortured him, and so does all the Thirium on the floor. Or what Mr. State-of-the-art could see. Bastard..."_

"Mr. State-of-the-art?" Connor asked, frowning. He had a feeling he knew who it was, but...

_"Your 'successor', RK900. Calls himself Niles. He's a smug asshole, and no one knows if he's a deviant or not, but no one cares. He's good at his job, but he annoys Anderson. Annoys me, honestly. Didn't call to talk about him, though. You wanna know about the freak after you."_

"... so he is after me? You're sure of it?"

_"Fuck, didn't mean to say that. Yeah, we're pretty sure this guy is looking for you. Don't know why; thought at first he might have been close to some deviant you offed, but you didn't actually kill that many deviants. Don't worry; I'm the only one a precinct who knows you're still alive. Although, Anderson suspected something. Even though he's the one who told everyone you were dead."_

"He's also the one that killed me to begin with..." Connor muttered darkly, an unpleasant feeling rising in his stomach. "Anything else you can tell me?"

_"Not really. Broke into the Lieutenant's home to find some trace of you, got chased out by Sumo before Anderson could ID him. Then be broke into an apartment building on the outskirts of Detroit, tortured a deviant for info on you, got what he wanted, and then killed him. How he knew you were still alive is forever a mystery... Keep an eye out. Not that I'd care too much if you got butchered, but I imagine you might care."_

Despite himself, Connor smiled a little bit. "I'll stay vigilant. Thanks for the info, Detective. Have a good night."

_"Yeah, you too I guess. And delete my number from your phone, tin can!"_

Connor sighed and ended the call, but did not delete Gavin's number, just in case he needed it again, and stood, heading for the door and grabbing his coat on the way out.

It was time to do some good old-fashioned investigating.


	7. Thirium, Firewood, and Whiskey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Let us forgive each other, only then will we live in peace._ -Leo Tolstoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit dialogue-heavy, so I apologize for that. Also, fairly long.

The bartender looked up at Connor and frowned. "You said this guy's name was Rupert?"

"Yes. He was a deviant, but it would've been difficult to tell. Probably smelled like pigeons."

The bartender snorted and looked back down at the glass in her hand. "Why, exactly, would he have smelled like pigeons?"

"Because for some reason he's really fond of them. Look, from one android to another, you have to know _something_." Connor begged, leaning across the counter.

The bartender looked at him for a long moment. "You know, now that you mention it... There was a man that struck me as being rather odd in here a while ago. Kinda did smell funny. I don't know if it was pigeon scent or not, but it might've been. You were at the bar in your corner that night, he kept glancing over at you like he expected you to jump out at him. Didn't order anything, just asked if I knew anyone around town who had any knowledge about repairs. Sent him to Rose; ask her for more information if you want it, that's all I got."

Connor quickly scribbled some notes down in his book and then closed it and shoved it in his coat pocket with the pen and grinned back up at the bartender. "That's perfect, thanks."

She nodded at him and set her glass down, reaching for the next as Connor headed out the door, intent on heading to Rose's farm. He hopped on his motorcycle, which he had parked on the street just outside of the bar, shoved on his helmet, and took off. It took him only about five minutes to reach Rose's place, and Adam Chapman was outside chopping wood when he walked up to the property. He turned and grinned at Connor as he saw him, setting the axe against the tree stump and heading up to greet him.

"Morning, Connor! It's good to see you." Adam said cheerfully, grinning and rocking back on his heels.

Connor couldn't stop the smile that spread across his own face. "Good to see you as well, Adam. Is Rose home?"

"Yeah, she's in the house. Think she's sorting her parts or something like that. You wanna see her?"

"That'd be great. I have some questions to ask." Connor pulled his notebook out and held it up, and Adam nodded knowingly.

"An investigation, huh? Alright, then. Back door should be unlocked, go ahead and let yourself in." Adam headed back to his stump, picking up the axe once more and grabbing another log.

Connor pushed open the backdoor, and headed around to the kitchen, but paused when he heard voices. Both of which were very familiar. He could clearly recognize Rose's voice, but the other... He'd heard it before, but it had been a long time. His processors supplied him with a name and profile in the corner of his vision, but he ignored it. If he had a heart, he imagined it would be pounding in his chest. Moving as silently as he could, he headed toward the entryway of the kitchen and pressed his back against the wall, listening.

"He didn't say what he was doing here, but it was obvious he wanted to get out of here as quick as possible. He didn't explain that either." Rose said. He could hear the frown in her voice.

"There's nothing that you can think of that would've spooked him? No _person _that would've frightened him?" the second voice was deep. Scratchy. Male. Again, a name appeared in the corner of his vision, and again Connor ignored it.

Rose hesitated. "I... I can't think of anyone."

"Really? No one comes to mind?" the voice asked again. Connor could practically see him crossing his arms and giving her that 'I don't believe you' look he gave suspects.

"... No. Not a single person. No one in this town is vindictive enough to hurt someone." Rose insisted, her voice becoming steadier.

"Not someone renowned for hunting down androids?" he said, a certain measure of annoyance in his voice. Connor shifted slightly, intended to peak through the entryway... and the wood creaked beneath his feet. "... No one hiding just outside the kitchen, listening in on our conversation?"

Rose sighed heavily. "I didn't know he was there," she admitted. "Must have just gotten here."

Connor, knowing full well that he was found, stepped out from behind the wall. Rose and the Lieutenant turned towards him, Rose looking disappointed, and Hank looking... Guarded, is the word Connor would use. Connor kept his eyes on the older man as he stepped into the room, keeping his hands visible, even though he wanted to shove them in his pockets. No reason to give the Lieutenant an excuse to put a bullet through his head. Though Connor wouldn't be surprised if he found one anyways.

"... Lieutenant Anderson." Connor said stiffly, barely managing to hold the man's gaze. He'd spent a good year very purposefully avoiding anything to do with the man, anything from a simple mention of his name to photographs. And now... he was face to face with him for the first time since the incident on the rooftop...

_"Moment of truth, Lieutenant... Am I a living being? Or just a machine?"_

Connor had asked himself that question only about a million times since he'd deviated. He'd respected the Lieutenant, and he'd shattered that respect with one stupid decision that he made a little too late. And then he'd turned on his heel and ran as far as he could get. Pretended he was dead. Honestly, he should've expected Hank to have been here, given that the investigation was assigned to the DPD, not some small town Private Eye. Should've expected him to have followed the same leads he did. That was part of the reason he had worked so well with him back when he was working with the DPD; they were always able to follow each other's logic, provided Connor wasn't using tech jargon.

And they'd just accidentally done it again.

"Still immortal, huh Connor?" Hank said, shoving his hands in his coat pocket and holding his gaze.

"... In a way." Connor murmured, before turning to Rose. "Sorry for not letting you know I was coming Rose. Didn't know you had company..." 

"I didn't expect him to show up, honestly," Rose said, looking between the two of them. "I'll... be back. I'm going to go check on Adam." And with that, she headed out of the kitchen, leaving Connor and Hank alone.

The silence was... awkward, to say the least.

"Part of me was hoping you wouldn't come back," Hank said quietly, and Connor averted his gaze to his shoes. "But... part of me is glad you did."

Connor hesitated for a moment and looked back up at Hank. "I'm... sorry," he choked out. "For what I said on the roof. And, you know... trying to kill you. And Markus. I was stupid, couldn't see anything beyond the mission."

Hank gave him an appraising look. "... You've changed. Deviated."

Connor swallowed hard and nodded. "I deviated when Cyberlife tried to shut me down. When they... replaced me." As usual, he felt some form of bitter anger.

"Yeah, well, your replacement is an annoying asshole. As bad as things ended, I still gotta admit that I prefer you over him." Hank said, and a small smile tugged at Connor's mouth.

"Good," Connor said, and the room fell back into silence. After another few moments of this, he spoke again. "I'm glad you're still around. I was afraid that you'd..."

"That I'd off myself? Yeah, unfortunately for me, you changed my mind. Reminded me that there were reasons to live." Hank sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Forget about it... what're you doing up here?"

"Same thing you are, actually. Looking for leads. You know, so I hopefully can find out who's trying to murder me and avoid a gruesome death." Connor sighed and leaned back on his heels, digging out his notebook. "And before you say anything, yes, I know the guy is after me. I talked to Gavin yesterday."

"Of course he opened his big mouth..." Hank muttered, sighed. "Alright, so let's see. This freak murdered that deviant, the one obsessed with birds... Robert?"

"Rupert. He then left a note threatening me, implying that Rupert had given away where I was. I talked to the bartender, and it turns out Rupert was here in town about a week before his death when he spotted me."

"Right. So, scared out of his wits, he decided to do his business here and get the hell out of town before you noticed him. Talked to Ms. Chapman, who was the last person who saw him alive, then headed back to Detroit, where he encountered the suspect and was tortured for information once he mentioned you. Oh, suspect also completely destroyed his processors. Didn't want us accessing his memory and finding out anything about their identity. Presumably, they're headed this way as we speak."

"Great. Psycho murderer could be here any minute and no one has a clue who they are. I'm dead. I'm so fucking dead." Connor leaned back against the doorway.

"Not yet you're not. Maybe if we put an officer with you till we catch the guy? Just to be safe?" Hank suggested, frowning.

"That might not be-" Connor took one look at Hank's face and mysterious gleam in his eyes. "_No_. Absolutely not."

"I mean, he's here so often anyways..."

"I am _not _living with Gavin Reed."


End file.
